The All-Seeing Eye. Thank the gods I didn't kill her when I had the chance.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Shit. The patter of footsteps suddenly sounded again, catching Sabin's attention. Too late. He whipped around. Four Hunters had entered the hallway. "Found one!" he heard as they trained their weapons on him and raced forward.
"He's mine. When he recovers from my blows, he's yours."
"I will hurt him. Now, later. This is for my son, demon!"
A barrage of bullets slammed into him: shoulder, stomach, next to the fresh wound in his thigh. He'd known better than to allow himself to be distracted. Pushing past the pain, he launched forward with a roar. He fired his semiautomatics until the magazines were emptied, dropped them and spread his arms, bullets continuing to hit him.
He and the Hunters met in the middle of the hall.
They crashed together and tumbled to the floor. One of the Hunters cracked his skull into the marble so hard he didn't move again. The other three withdrew blades and tried to slice at various places on Sabin's body. But he'd expected the attack and had palmed his own during the fall.
Humans, no matter how smart, were no match for an immortal's strength and speed.
He had their necks gushing before they managed more than a few incisions. Panting, Sabin lumbered to his feet. Dizziness battered against his brain like a drum, and he swayed. This rate, and he might not live to fight Stefano. Much less Galen, if the coward ever showed his face.
He closed his eyes for a moment, fatigued, weak.
He must have blacked out, because when he refocused, a human was standing just in front of himthough out of striking distance, he noted. Not just any human, either. Stefano.
Hate rose like a tidal wave in his chest, but he didn't have the strength to rise.
"Knew it was you," Sabin said. His throat felt raw, as if blood and acid had played Search-and-Destroy with his voice box.
Stefano tsked under his tongue. "Look at you, Doubt. You must be in pain. How sad."
Sabin slowly moved his good arm behind his back, where a dagger dangled from a chain. He could feel the cold metal against his skin.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Stefano said, lifting his own arm and aiming a gun at Sabin's face.
Sabin stilled. "We both know you're not going to kill me."
"Perhaps we do. But I have no problem hurting you, taking you to the brink of death. My team includes doctors who know how to save a man who's only a heartbeat away from extinction."
"Aren't you a sweetie?" Damn, but his head was filled with a sickening fog. A fog that had nothing to do with weakness but everything to do withdrugs? Had Stefano injected him with something while he was unconscious? Sabin wouldn't put it past the fucker.
"Yes. Yes, I am. I didn't slice off your limbs as I wanted. I didn't carve Darla's name in your chest."
Hearing his lover's name from this man's lips was foul. "She hated you, you know? You think I lured her away from you, but the truth is, she ran willingly into my arms."
Stefano's nostrils flared. "Liar! She loved me! She would never have betrayed me. But you and your demon messed with her mind, changed her." His breath was sawing in and out with the force of his fury. "The last eleven years I've prayed and hoped you would take a lover so I could take her from you, but you never did and I'm through waiting. I'll take your friends, your dignity instead. And ultimately, I'll take your life."
"And such violence will make the world a better place?" he asked dryly. "What of peace and harmony?"
A tongue over teeth. A change of expression, from anger to composure, as if Sabin's questions reminded him of his purpose. "Where's the girl?"
"Maybe we sold her." Sabin straightened his fingers, and they brushed the tip of the knife. "Maybe cut her up and had her for breakfast." Sabin envied Gideon just then, hating that he himself passed out cold every time he tried to lie. Hated that the only way around it was speaking in terms of "maybe" and "probably." Anyone who knew him knew his tricks.
Stefano knew him. "Where is she, demon? She has to be nearby. You knew she'd been with us, and wouldn't want her far from your side."
Another wave of dizziness swept the corridors of his mind. Don't lose control of yourself. Don't give Stefano the upper hand.
You're wounded. He already has the upper hand.
His jaw clenched. Didn't we talk about this? If you want to live, demon, you had better turn the waterworks on the Hunter.
He's closed his mind. Needs a distraction. Make him think.
A distraction. "This brings back memories, doesn't it?" Sabin asked. "We've been in this position before, only you were the one wounded. You and your men raided my home in New York, thought to sneak in and take us while we slept. You soon learned the error of your ways. Won yourself a personal introduction to my favorite blade. Got you in the stomach, yes?"
Stefano's nostrils flared. "Yes, and you assumed I was dead. Packed up your stuff and moved on, leaving me there to heal, my hatred only growing."
Got him, Doubt crowed, then whispered into the Hunter's mind, All this planning, the loss of men, the expense of firepower, but what if it's not enough? What if the Lords escape unscathed once again?
"Tell me about the girl. The truth this time," Stefano barked. "You wouldn't have killed her. She is the Eye."
"The what now?" He'd known the Hunters had learned of Danika's ability, but now he wondered just who had told them. "Did you just say she was an eye? Her peepers were nice, but I wouldn't define the girl by them."
Even as he spoke, Doubt continued to fill Stefano's head. She could be leading the Lords to the third artifact even now. If they find the box first, there will be no way to contain the demons. Sabin will live, and you will one day die.
Stefano's eyes narrowed, the hand holding the gun shaking. "Stop that!"
Sabin blinked innocently, fingers secretly wrapping around his blade. "Stop what?"
"Stop filling my head with those poisoned thoughts. Is that what you did to Darla? Is that how you killed her?"
"She killed herself." He had to be careful. He didn't want to strike Stefano and cause the man to shoot him in the face. That kind of wound could maim him for eternity. Maybe even kill him. "You look as if your head is about to explode. Anything I can do to help? Like tell you you're working for a demon?"
Stefano's lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. "Play dumb if you desire. In the end, it won't save you and it won't save the girl. And don't try to sway me with your filthy lies. My leader is an angel and our cause ordained by the heavens."
Sabin saw the muscles in the man's finger twitch and knew the Hunter was only a heartbeat away from pinching the trigger. Angry as he was, he probably didn't care about keeping Sabin alive any longer.
His next words confirmed it. "I don't care what happens to your demon when you're dead. I want you gone. Punished. Once and for all."
Nope, he didn't care.
Sabin summoned a reservoir of might, twisted and rolledand none too soon. A pop echoed, a bullet whizzing past his shoulder, burning, cutting, but thankfully not lodging. Before his opponent had time to squeeze another shot, he jumped up, kicked out his leg and connected with Stefano's ankles. When the man stumbled to the floor, landing with a thud, Sabin booted the gun out of his hand.
Somewhere in the background, he could hear the scuff of shoes against marble. Enemy? Or ally?
Stefano scrambled backward. So badly Sabin wanted to stride forward, slam his palm into the bastard's nose, cut his neck, something. But the last of his strength had all but deserted him. He was panting, still dizzy, and his muscles were clamping down on his bones, holding him immobile. He could only wait, praying it was his friends who would round the corner.
"We aren't finished," Stefano spat, standing. He looked down the hallway and paled.
Thank the gods. That meant it was Sabin's friends who were headed their way. Or one of them, at least. From his periphery he saw Gideon, who was in the process of raising a gun.
"Sabin," Gideon called. "Shit! I'm not here for you, man."
Obviously seeing no other exit, Stefano raced for the window and dove out. Unless there was a mat waiting for him on the ground, he would die when he hit. He was giving up? That easily?
Gideon didn't stop and check on Sabin. He leapt past him and rushed to the window. Sabin grinned weakly. Trained him well, he thought, black falling over his vision. His knees finally gave out and he slid to the ground.
"I totally believe what I'm seeing. Fucker was not caught by our favorite friend and his feathered wings." Pop. Pop. Gideon emptied his gun until there was a click, click, click. "Great! Nailed him."
Sabin blinked until his eyes cleared, the immortal responsible for his torment coming into view. There Galen was, long white wings outstretched and flapping delicately as he hovered just outside the window. He was tall, strong and as handsome as everas if thousands of years hadn't passed.
He was grinning.
Sabin thought he'd been prepared to see the warrior. Or as ready as he could be, given the shock of Lucien's revelation tonight. He wasn't.
"Now you know," Galen called, his voice as charismatic and empowering as Sabin remembered. "Now the real fun begins."
They were the last words Sabin heard before crumpling into oblivion.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THREE DAYS. Three damn days since Danika and Reyes had left the fortress. They'd traveled on and off, going from plane to stolen car to train, never remaining in one place for long. Just in case. Neither of them wanted to lead Hunters to her family. And as much as it stunk to be on the run again, it was a thousand times better because Reyes was at her side. Surly as he was.
They hadn't spoken much. He barked an order every now and thenduck, run, be quietbut that was the crux of their few conversations. She hadn't seen any Hunters, but that didn't mean anything and she lived in constant fear and dread. As usual.
They slept in cheap motels, always in the same room but never in the same bed. Sometimes, at night, after he'd fortified every exit of their motel room with extra locks, Reyes would barricade himself inside the bathroom. Like now.
Eyes narrowed, Danika peered at the closed door. She lay on a full-sized bed, the small, dingy room cast in shadows that were interrupted every so often by car lights streaming through the stained red curtains. She'd kicked off the stiff, starchy comforter and had propped herself against the headboard. Waiting. Reyes had been inside that bathroom for half an hour.
Oh, she knew exactly what he was doing. The knowledge didn't disgust her, itsaddened her. Why did he no longer desire her? Why did he not come to her for relief from his demon?
Because he thought she was some silly artifact?
"Dummy," she muttered.
He and his friends kept in close contact. From the one-sided conversations she'd managed to "accidentally" overhear as he whispered into his cell phonewould have helped if she'd possessed Ashlyn's ability to listen to any conversationshe knew Hunters had indeed attacked the fortress. Stefano had escaped unscathed. A few Lords had been seriously injured but were thankfully healing. Oh, yeah. And they wanted her to paint. Breathe, eat and paint. That's all they wanted her to do.
A few months ago, that might have made her happy.
Reyes had given her a sketchbook, which she'd used every morning to purge herself of her riotous dreams. Dreams more violent than ever as demons clawed at the jagged, flame-drenched walls of hell. When she finished, Reyes would tear the pages and have her fax them to Lucien. She didn't know if the drawings had helped their cause. No one would tell her a damn thing.
"'Cause I'm just the lowly painter girl," she grumbled.
The bathroom door creaked open. Reyes had turned off the lights, so she saw only his shadow as he strode out. The scent of sandalwood was laced with the metallic tang of blood, and both wafted to her. While she couldn't see his features, she was bathed in moonlight and his to peruse. She felt the intensity of his gaze boring into her, sliding over her.
His heatoh, she missed his heat. Since being with him, she hadn't experienced any more of that mind-numbing cold. Still. Was it too much to ask of him to keep her well supplied in his mega hotness? Apparently.
"Worried about your family?" he asked, settling on the pallet he'd made on the floor.
She'd called her grandmother's friends. They still denied seeing the woman, and she believed them. "No. They're fine. Maybe I'm crazy, but I've convinced myself they're fine. I am excited about seeing them tomorrow. Thank you for finally relenting, by the way."
"I did not relent for you. I relented because I have seen no sign of Hunters."
"Whatever. I'm still grateful."
One minute after another passed. He didn't move. No soundnot even the whisper of his breathrose from that floor. She hated the silence. It allowed her mind to wonder and churn, worry about what Reyes was thinking, fret about what would happen in the coming days, lament the fact that she'd once wanted only one night with Reyes but would now beg for another. And another.
The more she smelled Reyes, the more she desired him. The more her blood rushed and the core of her throbbed. "Distract me," she said, scooting down the mattress to lie flat. She pulled the sheet up and it rasped against her hardening nipples. She barely stifled a moan. "Please."
"How?"
"I don't know. Tell me something about you." Had she asked that of him before? She couldn't remember.
"I thought you did not wish to know anything about me."
Oh, yeah. "I changed my mind. I'm a girl, I can do that."
Another minute of silence, then, "I do not want to play this game, Danika."
Something she'd noticed about him. He called her Danika when he wanted to keep distance between them. He called her angel when he wanted to draw her closer. She missed being called angel.
They'd had sex all those days ago, and it had been wonderful. She wanted, needed, more. Of him. Only him. He was an addiction. He'd believed her about not helping the Hunters when other men might have thought her disloyal. He'd rushed her to safety, covering her body with his own when gunshots blasted. He'd given her a taste of the paradise she sometimes painted, gently rocking her to orgasm.